


Still Water

by Strider_Woah



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, M/M, smut possible in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strider_Woah/pseuds/Strider_Woah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your coffee had gone cold. You decide that, what the hell. Going outside and trying to make friends won't kill you.</p><p>You feel like it's going to be a long day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. static state go away go away

You roll out of bed. The sun is shining and your eyes hurt. You feel like mold. You feel like a stagnant pond, festering and covered in bugs. You feel like a thundercloud holding back a torrential downpour.

Today feels like a lot like yesterday, you decide. 

You rub your eyes. Ow. Ow. Ow. Can they stop hurting or is that something that's going to continue. From the way it appears, it's going to continue. Great. Wonderful start to a wonderful day. What do they even hurt from? Fuck, does it even matter anymore. That's not a question, just a statement. At it's purest form, it's simply rhetorical. 

You drag a hand down your chest and stand up, shaking your head, and blonde locks fall in front of your eyes, obscuring your vision. 

This place doesn't feel the same as home. This place isn't home yet. Your contacts aren't in yet, you can't see anything, and you're kicking boxes over as you walk to the bathroom. You're starting to think you're never going to get unpacked. You're starting to think this place will never feel like home. 

You reach the bathroom. It smells like air freshener and Axe in here. You mostly blindly grope for your contact case, popping it open and popping your vision aides in before giving yourself a good look down.

Your name is Dave Strider, and you don't want to be here.

Your chest is covered in scars from Bro. Miscalculated thrusts of a sword really left a message on you. You rubbed a particularly bad one near your collar bone. This one needed stitches, you remember. And Bro was the one to administer them, in the large bathroom back in Texas. You'd never thought you'd say that you miss that place. It was pretty miserable there. Smuppets everywhere, sometimes trash piling up for weeks and gathering mold and flies and being nasty. Sure it was a penthouse apartment, but it wasn't inherently nice. But this place was worse. 

Instead of an apartment complex, you were currently situated in a house. A fucking house. In the middle of Washington. May as well start being on the look out for sparkly vampires and Indian werewolves to fall in love and fight over you. That's always the life you've wanted. Bad Twilight jokes aside, this place is weird. So... quiet. Going from smack dab in the heart of Houston, Texas to a house in a suburban neighborhood in Washington. This all being said, you're only about 45 minutes from Seattle, which is rad. Seattle has a pretty cool music scene, you've heard. But, you wouldn't know first hand. You haven't left this neighborhood in the first month you've lived here.

You strip out of your pajamas and step into the shower, turning on the water. Cold. Cold showers help you wake up, get focused, get centered and not pay much attention to your stupid thoughts or feelings. Warm showers just made you kind of fuzzy and tired feeling. 

Skipping ahead to about thirty minutes later would find you curled up in a windowsill in the study, cup of coffee in hand and your iconic shades on your face. What would you be without those things? From this angle, you could see most of the neighbors. Across the street, there was a well groomed lawn with a silly pogo bounce in the lawn, and a white car parked in the driveway, which was all topped off with a tire swing and a mail box. The red flappy thing on it was up. Guess the neighbors had mail. Or were sending mail. Did it really matter? You didn't suppose it did much. 

Cars went up and down the street at a leisurely pace, stopping at the sign on the corner. You could almost hear wind chimes in the distance, and smell the burgers on the barbeques. This was summer suburban tranquility at it's finest.

The door creaked open, and under even under Bro's light footsteps, the floor panels creaked. When did he get upstairs? This house is so squeaky you thought you would have heard. Apparently not. A hand claps on your shoulder, and you look up at the man putting it there. Bro. 

The best thing about him is that he never changed. Bro was a universal constant and you were so thankful for that. He sighs as he looks at you through those dumb, pointy anime shades. 

"Dave. It's been a good month and you haven't left the house once. Under normal circumstances, it'd be more acceptable. But you don't even have internet here yet, man. What's up?"

You pick your phone out of your lap and wave it at him. He was the one who got you the stupid iPhone, and now, thanks to the 3G you're so glad you have, you've been occupying your days mindlessly blogging on your phone instead of your computer. 

"Alright, makes sense. But, hear me out kiddo." He leaned against the wall by the window. "You're gonna wanna make friends before school starts, you know that, right? Hell, I've even made some friends. And I don't even need them. I am a grown man with a child, and once you start with that parenting shit, you no longer have a need for camaraderie. I just want you to fit in better here than you did back home, okay?" Without waiting for a reply, he pats your shoulder again and walks out of the room, going back downstairs to whatever it is he does all day. Every since you moved here, he's been pretty much retired from his puppet shit. Maybe he finally outgrew it. Thank god.

But, you got the point he was making. Making friends might help you a bit. But, all your friends were back in Texas or on the internet. And there wasn't anyone in the area that you knew of. Being social is hard and stupid. Why can't you skip the awkward friendship courtship bullshit and go straight to calling each other motherfuckers and playing video games till five in the morning? 

Your coffee had gone cold. You decide that, what the hell. Going outside and trying to make friends won't kill you.

You feel like it's going to be a long day.


	2. this is weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You stick out a hand. "Strider. Dave Strider. Just blew into town. Nice to meet you." He shakes your hand enthusiastically. 
> 
> "So you're the guy who moved in across the street like, forever ago! My dad and I were wondering when you were gonna come over and say hi. Oh, my name's John by the way. John Egbert. It's been a pleasure, but, I'm needed inside, I think. I'll... talk to you later?"

Your initial idea to go outside and make friends wasn't bad, but it backfired, and quickly turned into you sitting on the front porch, smoking through a brand new pack of reds at a record breaking pace, and listening to Snoop Dogg on your phone. Life was best this way, not socializing, not moving, not leaving your house. 

This would be a perfect scene if something moving in the bushes across the street wasn't catching your attention. Is that a dog? A really big cat? No... It's bipedal. Now a face is sticking out of the bush. What the hell...? Someone is wearing a set of beaglepuss glasses, truly embodying the Groucho Marx look. He ducks back into the bushes and the next time you see him, he's sitting on the curb in front of his house, knees to his chest, looking like if he could be swinging his feet right now, he would be. He looks around your age, but he also looks like he could very easily still be seen on the pogo bounce or tire swing in his yard. He seems dweeby enough to be open to any and all social interaction, so you may as well start flexing your friend making muscles, right? You snub out your cigarette in the ashtray sitting on the end table beside you and get up, stretching out your stiff back, grab your phone and make your way across the all but idle street.

You stand in the road in front of him, looking down. "Hey," is all you say. The young man looks up at you and his eye brows furrow behind his stupid ass glasses.

He shushes you with a finger to his lips. "Shut up! You're going to blow my cover!" Uh huh. What the fuck.

You sit down next to him, figuring you could play along. You've got nothing better to do for fuck's sake. You whisper to him, "You know who sent me. Don't worry. There will be no cover blowing today."

He looks at you with wide eyes. Those are the eyes of a young child who has someone to play a stupid game with. He stutters out an incoherent statement before getting out an actual one. "Uhm... Uh, That means you have the stuff, right?" He tilts his head in a questioning manner.

"Well, no doubt, my man, I always come prepared, Scout's honor." What do you have in your pocket fuck fuck fuck. You have... Your Swiss Army knife you got for your 14th birthday. Your phone. Half a pack of cigarettes. A lighter. And a wadded up gum wrapper. You decide to pull out the gum wrapper and hand it to him, wondering what the strange kid was gonna do with it.

He takes it from you, and audibly gasps. "It's really you! I knew I wouldn't be let down. This is the perfect final piece to my coup de grace, my master piece of pranking!" Wow, is he legit about that last part or. You don't know him well enough to judge whether it's ironic or not. 

As he goes to get up, a voice coming from the house that your back is now facing towards gets your attention and makes you jump. Sounds like an older dude shouting at his kid. "John! Come in, young man!"

Your new-found curb buddy/espionage partner/master prankster(?) gives you an embarrassed look. "Sorry. That's my dad. Uhm... I didn't catch your name."

You stick out a hand. "Strider. Dave Strider. Just blew into town. Nice to meet you." He shakes your hand enthusiastically. 

"So you're the guy who moved in across the street like, forever ago! My dad and I were wondering when you were gonna come over and say hi. Oh, my name's John by the way. John Egbert. It's been a pleasure, but, I'm needed inside, I think. I'll... talk to you later?"

"I guess, if that works for you." 

In the time that you had spent talking to the little goofball, his father had walked down the sidewalk from their front door to where you two were sitting/standing on the curb. "Johnathan! Is this a friend of yours?" He seemed rather loud, and the smoke from his pipe was blowing into the gentle breeze going by the house.

"Oh, uhm... I guess! This is Dave, he moved in across the street a while ago!"

"So you're our new neighbor. Put 'er there, son." He stuck out his hand and waited for you to stand up. His immediate familiarity, as well as John's, was a bit off-putting but better than outright shunning, right? You stand up and shake his hand.

"I was just calling Johnathan in for lunch. You're welcome to join us, if you wish." Wow, first day you leave the house and you're getting offered free food. These guys don't seem the type to put arsenic in anything, so, what the hell. Why not. You accept the offer and follow them inside.

The interior of the Egbert house looks stunningly similar to yours in overall design, but in coloration it is radically different. Instead of being an off-white, beigeish yellow with brown bordering, the walls are a light blue, with white, almost Victorian looking designs running up and down the walls. The carpet under your shoes is white, fluffy, and very clean looking. The others kick their shoes off at the door, and you follow suit, trying not to be actually rude. Following them further inside, to where the kitchen is in your house as well, you glance around at the decorations. Unlike your house, there is a fireplace in the living room instead of a television stand. In fact, there is a roaring fire in it. What? It's the middle of summer! That's a bit ridiculous, but to each his own. On the mantle above the fireplace, there are two urns, both with a picture above them. One was of an older woman, one of a younger. Around the room were family portraits and harlequin statues. You found the latter somewhat creepy, but the former mostly endearing. 

You go to the kitchen with your new acquaintances, and in the time that it's taken you to get there, John had taken the beaglepuss to reveal he just wore ordinary glasses. On the counter, there sat a chocolate cake in a fancy glass display, and on the kitchen table there were two plates, both with a sandwich on it, lovingly cut into triangles and arranged in a pretty fashion. John immediately heads to the table and you stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. John's dad gestures at the seat. "Go ahead, David. I'll make myself another one." Oh, wow. Washington hospitality you suppose. And, awkward use of your full first name. 

"Uh, hey. Mr... Egbert. My name's just Dave, to let you know." You pull out the chair and sit down, giving the sandwich a cautious glance. Upon inspection, and a test bite, you find out it's a really good chicken salad in between the pieces of bread. 

Mr. Egbert, who's making another sandwich, speaks to you. "Oh, I'm sorry about that, young man. But it seems you've made a misnomer as well." As he says this, John groans slightly. He's apparently said whatever he's about to say before. "You can just call me Dad, or Dad Egbert. You see, Mr. Egbert was my father."

John slightly cuts him off. "But you're not his dad. That'd be sort of weird, him calling you Dad, don't you think?" He's trying to hint something he's obviously hinted before.

"Uhm, John's right. I just met you, and while I appreciate the offer of food, which is delicious by the way, I'm not comfortable with referring to you as my dad yet."

Mr. Egbert gives a sort of laughing sigh as he sits down at the table with his sandwich as well. "Alright, if you insist, Davi - Dave."


	3. I don't mind that you are not like me because I don't feel like I'm a lot like me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was as though something snapped in both of you, and in the breaking, a friendship formed.
> 
> If someone was looking in on this, and could feel the aromantic platonic bro-feels in the air, they would probably shed a tear out of the sheer beauty of this. Or call it gay. Very, very, gay.

You wave farewell to John and Mr. Egbert as you leave the house, after having a nice and fulfilling lunch and lunch desert (which is apparently a term in the Egbert household, and is satisfied with a couple slices of Mr. Egbert's delicious chocolate cake). You feel satisfied, having done what Bro's been encouraging you to do for the whole month in a single day.

You walk through the front door of the house, triumphant smirk on your face. A note on the table in the front room greets you.

"Dave -  
Noticed you took my advice, and have taken a liking to hanging with the neighbor kid. Good for you. I'll be gone for the night. Expect me home around 2, 3 at the latest. Don't wait up. You need to fix your sleep schedule anyways. Pizza Rolls in the freezer. Oh, and work on unpacking your shit.

PS - Internet should be working sometime next week. 

Bro xoxox"

You sighed. First time he's gone on one of his overnight ventures since you've lived here. You always wonder what the fuck he even gets into when he's out like that, seeing as he always refuses to tell you. This doesn't stop you from going straight to the living room, flopping on the couch, and turning on the television.

It's a week before you hear from John again.

You hear from him in the form of a knock on your door at three on a Tuesday afternoon. Insert nerdy friend on your doorstep, and insert you standing there, still wearing your sleep clothes with a cigarette hanging out of your mouth. John gives you a look of unsureness. 

"Oh, uh, hey Dave. I was gonna ask if you wanted to hang out today or something. I'm not doing anything, and uh..." He stumbled awkwardly over his words. It was kind of obvious he didn't have very many friends, or maybe any. You take pity on him. Doesn't hurt you don't have any friends from around here and nothing to do, seeing as Bro has taken the car to go shopping. Knowing him, he could be gone all day.

"I'm down, dude."

"Oh, I thought you'd be against it, seeing as... You know, you're not dressed yet or anything. I-it's cool that you aren't, I just figured that - "

"Yeah, it's three, I'd probably be out of my PJs by now. Well, you're not so lucky, amigo. I'll go get dressed if you plan on dragging me all over God's creation, but otherwise you're welcome to come in and hang out for however long."

He smiles at this. "Sounds like a plan! I... To be honest, I really didn't have anything in mind. Your plan sounds better."

You step aside and wave him into your house, ashing your cigarette unto the wooden floor to receive a look from John. 

"So, how old are you?"

"Sixteen. And yes, my guardian knows that I smoke. Don't go worrying. Or freaking. Either or."

He nodded. "Just making sure. Are your parents home, or...?" He steps in and looks around at the slight decor and attempting to hide the wrinkling of his nose at the unfamiliar smell, which happens to be the slow accumulation of a mixture of teenage boy funk and grown man residue. 

You wince slightly at that. "Yo, first off. I know you didn't know, but, my mom and pop are kinda... Well, they're dead. Gone. Six feet under. Pushing up daises. So on and so forth. I live with my older brother. And no, he's not home."

His face falls as you say this, and his cheeks tint red. Poor kid's probably a bit mortified. "Oh, fuck - ! I'm, I'm sorry. I know... How that feels. To an extent. I... I lost my mom a few years back. Fuck. Sorry."

Swear words sound weird coming out of his mouth. He looks too... sheltered, or innocent, or whatever, to cuss like that. Huh.

"No, it's fine, you didn't know. Seriously, don't get all riled up over it. Let's not talk about death and shit and just... I dunno. You wanna play Xbox? Watch Netflix? Just got the internet turned on today, so, I've been goin' crazy."

He nods, the blush starting to fade, but the overall air of embarrassment staying thick in the air. "I don't really care, it's up to you. It's your house after all."

"But you're the guest. Guest decides."

John shrugs, pushing his glasses up his nose. "What games do you have?" 

An hour later, you're situated around your TV, you and your new friend both absorbed into a particularly good match of zombies. You both go down suddenly in a fit of glorious rage, both screaming swear words at the TV. Then, before you know it, you're looking at each other and laughing hysterically. In that moment, you felt a feeling you could only really describe as placidity. It was as though something snapped in both of you, and in the breaking, a friendship formed.

If someone was looking in on this, and could feel the aromantic platonic bro-feels in the air, they would probably shed a tear out of the sheer beauty of this. Or call it gay. Very, very, gay.

Unfortunately for you, this is the exact moment Bro arrived home to walk in on this scene - two friends laughing on the couch. And he shed no tears this day. No, he insulted your sexuality and walked out of the room, Wal*Mart bags in hand. You and John stopped laughing for a second, only to laugh harder shortly afterwards.

After a good deal of jovial bullshittery, you turned on Netflix. Filling up the instant queue were things such as the classic Barbie films circa 2003, as well as docudramas about skateboarding, puppet documentaries, and terrible rom-coms. 

John gave you an apprehensive look. "Uhm...?"

"Irony, dude. I to the R to the O to the -ny. Most important thing here in the Strider household."

John simply nodded, and began recommending movies. However, they ended up being bad, almost worse than the ironic movies you had in mind. They went on the instant queue for later.

At this moment in time, it was decided upon to watch an actual good movie you both could agree on. Mallrats. Well, okay, you can't say it's the best movie _ever_ , but Kevin Smith has his moments, and you legitimately enjoy this movie, irony be damned. 

About halfway through, you light up a cigarette, taking a drag and letting it sit in your fingers over the arm of the couch. John looked at you and it in a manner that denoted he wanted something. You questioned him about it.

"Well, I'll be honest. I've never been around anyone who smokes before. I've always thought it looks really cool, and... I kinda wanna try it."

You regret to inform him smoking is in fact, _not_ cool and is actually one of the lamest things you do. He shakes his head, refusing to be detoured.

You shrug. "Okay. If you're sure." You grab out your pack again, handing one to him. He grabs it, unsure and somewhat shaken, holding it between his index finger and his thumb like it was a joint. You shook your head and corrected his technique. You made sure he really wanted to do this. He nods, and tell him to suck in on the filter as you light it. He does as you say, and immediately starts coughing.

You send him home an hour later with a "buzz," as most first time smokers get, and smelling like he just crawled out of an Axe factory, to mask the distinctive scent of tobacco on him. Oh, and you also exchanged chumhandles with him.

You consider this Tuesday afternoon/early evening a success.


	4. I'd sleep over but we'd stay up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EB: jeez, you always are so bored!  
> EB: you'd think after a while it'd take an emotional toll on you.  
> TG: what emotions  
> TG: you act like i have emotions to have boredom to take a toll on  
> TG: my emotions have been erased by mental scarring via puppet schlong  
> TG: soft muppet ass has gently caressed away anything i could have felt that even resembled human emotions

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

EB: hey dave!    
TG: oh   
TG: shit i forgot i had pesterchum open   
TG: sup man   
EB: hehe, it's cool, dude!   
EB: i was just bored.   
EB: wondered if you were up to anything.   
TG: you know me man   
TG: and my lack of fuck to do   
EB: yeah, indeed i do.   
EB: jeez, you always are so bored!   
EB: you'd think after a while it'd take an emotional toll on you.   
TG: what emotions   
TG: you act like i have emotions to have boredom to take a toll on   
TG: my emotions have been erased by mental scarring via puppet schlong   
TG: soft muppet ass has gently caressed away anything i could have felt that even resembled human emotions   
EB: okay, okay, dude, i got it.   
EB: your life in texas sounds a fuckload more interesting than it is here.   
TG: eh i guess so   
TG: it was just cause i was never home and when i was home i usually had something to do   
TG: like   
TG: homework   
EB: ...you do your homework?   
TG: if i get bored enough yea   
TG: which   
TG: if life continues to be so lame into the school year   
TG: i will probably do every bit of my homework   
TG: all of a sudden im fucking valedictorian    
TG: and in my graduation speech i can thank boredom and swear a lot   
TG: i think thats a good plan hbu   
EB: i think... okay! you do that. i'll be there and i'll support you.   
TG: why would you - oh fuck thats right   
TG: i keep forgetting were in the same class   
EB: hehe! youre really forgetful.   
TG: just another one of my positive traits   
EB: sure, suuuuuuuure. ;P   
TG: you love me admit it   
EB: never! >:)   
TG: ok w/e i dont even care   
EB: daaaaaaaave you just made that not even fun.   
TG: yes another one of the things i am good at   
TG: :)   
EB: ew.   
EB: it's weird to see you use emoticons.   
TG: yeah ikr   
TG: its weird to use them   
TG: oh hey   
TG: last weekend of summer   
TG: rapidly approaching it is   
TG: you wanna come over and like   
TG: spend the night or something   
TG: im not doing shit and bros down with it if you and your dad are   
EB: dude! of fucking course! i am so there! :B   
TG: alright sweet   
TG: i gotta go eat dinner im starvin balls   
TG: see you next friday at    
TG: lets saaaaaaaay   
TG: 4 o clock sharp?   
EB: sounds like a plan!   
TG: alright im outie   
EB: talk to you later, bro!

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] has ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--


	5. my days are moving quickly because they're smaller fractions of myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You open the door, and there is your dorky little friend standing in front of you. He's got his backpack on his back and he looks ready for anything. John smiles widely at you, waving at you and your brother before stepping inside.
> 
> You have a feeling tonight is gonna be a long one.

The days moved quickly. Monday was blue - it stormed for a bit and you had a nice smoke-and-coffee brunch tête-à-tête with Bro watching the thunderclouds roar by that morning. Tuesday was grey - it was foggy all day, and you walked around your neighborhood, not for the first time, but it was the most memorable. A strange looking black cat almost followed you home, but at some point you looked behind you and he was gone. Wednesday was the same, but you stayed indoors and watched a Supernatural marathon all day. God, those Winchester boys really were something special. Thursday, fuck. You slept right through Thursday. You might have gotten up to make some Pizza Rolls at some point. But that's about all you remember. Friday came upon you like a wizard - not late, not early, but precisely when it meant to.

You actually woke up and got dressed at a decent time, knowing John and his punctual nature better now than you did a couple weeks ago. As you stepped out of the bathroom, freshly dressed and out of the shower at about one, Bro gave you a skeptical look from the kitchen table. 

"Excited to see your boyfriend, I take it?" He sounded pretty sincere. Had he not smirked so big, you would have thought he thought you and John were a thing. You shrugged off the comment.

"You fucking know it. I've just made it my job to seduce all the poor innocent straight boys I run into. You know me." You run a hand through your still damp hair and grab a bottle of apple juice out of the fridge. It was almost impossible to find, being buried in a mountain of orange soda. What the fuck is Bro's deal with orange soda.

"Aren't you glad I brought you here? You can have a field day with all these little sheltered suburban straight boys." He went back to reading his magazine. Ventriloquist Monthly. At least he hadn't renewed his subscription to Girls and Corpses... Yet.

You knew well that Bro didn't actually give a single fuck about your sexuality, or who you were fucking, so long as you stayed clean, and there was no pregnancy involved. Another reason to be grateful for him. Let's be honest, though. Your Bro was pretty much the raddest shit around, and you were glad you two are so tight. 

You thought about logging into Pesterchum again before John popped over, but... He seriously lived twenty seconds away, if you needed to talk to him so bad, then... You could. But, seeing as you have some time to kill, you may as well catch up with someone you that you haven't even thought about in a while.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] started pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

TG: yo  
TT: Dave.  
TT: Isn't this a pleasant surprise.  
TG: yeah yeah shut up  
TG: listen sorry i havent talked to you very much this summer  
TT: I expected nothing less.   
TT: I did know you were moving. That takes a lot out of a person.  
TT: Especially with someone with as little to take out of as you.  
TG: ha  
TG: ha ha  
TG: so funny i forgot to laugh  
TT: Oh, Dave. Your completely original comebacks slay me every time.  
TT: But you're not talking to me with no reason.  
TT: What's on your mind? Dreams bothering you? Relationship issues?  
TT: I am putting a sign on my desk right now.  
TT: Yes, now the whole world can know the Doctor is in.  
TG: can you shut your face  
TG: erm  
TG: stop typing  
TG: long enough for me to get a word in  
TT: After you pay your five cents.  
TG: oafhjgfdi  
TG: that was me slamming my head on my keyboard  
TG: sick of your shit rose  
TG: im going to find a better way to kill my time till john gets here  
TT: Oh?  
TT: John?  
TT: Does Davey Wavey have a little boyfriend?  
TT: Does Bro know?  
TT: Should I tell Mother to prepare the decorations?  
TG: yes tell her to get the decorations ready  
TG: im sure she still has those "its a boy" banners   
TG: she could modify them to say "daves boyfriend is john"  
TG: please have her do that and mail them here  
TG: ill throw the illest party  
TG: but in all seriousness no john happens to be the only friend ive made since i got here  
TT: Mr. Strider. Tsk tsk. Falling down on the job, now are we.   
TT: Two months is plenty enough to make more than one friend.  
TG: well hes who i found first and he happens to be a complete loser with no other friends  
TG: i pity the poor guy  
TT: And that's why he's coming over, I assume.  
TG: yeah  
TG: last weekend of summer gonna kick it out with a bang  
TT: Oh my. Too much information, Dave.  
TG: shut the fuck up you know what i mean  
TT: Indeed I do.  
TT: I read fan fiction quite a bit.  
TT: I'd say I'm damn near an expert.  
TG: rose  
TG: im going to come out and see you  
TG: and i am going to punch you  
TT: I'm sure you will.  
TG: anyways  
TG: fuck its almost four that dweeby fuck is gonna be here any second  
TG: ttyl loser hearts

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist  [TT] \-- 

You're glad you ended the chat before she had a chance to reply. You took the stairs two at a time to reach the front door before Bro, hearing the doorbell ring while you were still halfway up the stairs. 

You manage to just barely get it before him. You open the door, and there is your dorky little friend standing in front of you. He's got his backpack on his back and he looks ready for anything. John smiles widely at you, waving at you and your brother before stepping inside.

You have a feeling tonight is gonna be a long one.


	6. home never seemed so sad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Thanks, Egbert."
> 
> He rolls over in your lap, looking up to face you. "For what?"
> 
> You hand brushes the side of his face. "Being my friend."

Bro scoffed at your friend. You couldn't blame him - he looked utterly naive and silly, like a Boy Scout going to camp for the first time. You had to hold back a laugh yourself as you shut the door behind him. John honestly looked like an over excited thirteen year old kid at his first slumber party.

You began giving him a run down of the rules that would apply that differed from a day trip visit to the house as you walked with him up the stairs to put his bag in your room - things like, get in the shower before Bro if you want hot water, do not touch the orange soda, Cal is... totally rad and if he appears just let him chill, and if Bro is playing the Xbox or watching TV do not fuck with him. Oh, and stay out of Bro's room. That last rule is muy importante. 

John simply followed you and nodded as you went, trying not to trip over boxes on the floor, wary for the occasional sword sticking out of something or various pieces of clothing strew down the stairs. It'd only taken two months to make this nice, suburban home a hospitable Strider haven. 

You were starting to tell John about how he could look at but not touch your dead things collection when you came to your room, which he'd only been in a couple times before. He sat his stuff down near your bed and looked around, seeing as there was more stuff unpacked than even last time.

"Dude... You have so much shit. So much cool shit! Where did you even get all this?" He picked up a random trinket off of your desk. You patted his wrist as a signal that he needed to put it down. 

"I don't know, and I don't really care. My cool stuff now, right? Only a few of my things have cool stories, and they're mostly the dead ones."

"That's not true and you know it! Everything in here's got a story, and if you're telling it, it's bound to be cool!"

You chuckled. He really thinks you're cool. That's kinda cute.

You go on to explain that no, a lot of these objects are just things that you found, or that a friend gave you once upon a time. There was no funny story about how you got trashed and stole this from the White House. Except for that shirt over there in the corner. That's a funny story about Bro and his vacation to Washington D.C.

Before you know it, you and John are sitting on your bed, leaning against the wall, and legs dangling off the edge (because your bed is that small), exchanging stories at the speed of light. To your story about how once Bro accidentally took you to a strip club when you were seven, he comes back with the story about how he almost burnt his house down. With your childhood story about going to the amusement park and how you kicked a carnie right in the balls, he's got you beat with the story about why his dad is banned from Cirque Du Soleil. Before you know it, it's been a good two hours and you're laughing so hard it's almost hard to notice that John's head has fallen into your lap. Almost.

And then your stories wind down, into less hysterical, and more personal stories, about your dark room and his poster collection and your aspiration to be a musician or maybe a paleontologist and his want to make people laugh for a living, or anything really, so long as he's not stuck in a kitchen. It becomes less about laughing and more about just being. 

And after another hour of talking about your personal dreams and goals and pasts and not getting into detail but getting to know each other better, you're sitting in silence, running your hand through John's hair (as his head is still on your lap), and breathing and just being. You are doing nothing else but simply existing. 

"Hey John." You feel him shift slightly to pay more attention to what you're saying, but he doesn't move from your lap. 

"Yeah, Dave?"

"I think this is the least alone I've ever felt."

"Really? But you told me about all of those wild parties you went to in Houston, and how there were so many people, and - "

"Dude. There is a total difference between being alone and being _alone_. Right now, I... I dunno. I don't need to be surrounded by people to feel this placated. Thanks, Egbert."

He rolls over in your lap, looking up to face you. "For what?"

You hand brushes the side of his face. "Being my friend."

You see a hint of pink in his cheeks. Maybe it's because you're touching his face. He's not telling you to knock it off or calling you a pissant yet, though, and he's smiling, a coy, sorta half smile, so you're not gonna stop.

"You know... Ever since Jade moved... You've been the only friend that I've been able to make. And... It means a lot to me. And I wanna thank you for that too."

Fuck, look at you two fresh fuckers, having a sappy feeling moment on your bed. Well, you're not going to deny it - it's pretty nice having a friend. An actual friend who you hang out with at more than just parties - unlike all of your friends back in Texas. 

The next minutes are a blur. John sits up, you know that. And he scoots a little closer to you, and looks away and blushes, and he's talking about something, but something has told your heart to pound in your ears at this precise moment in time, so you can't even hear what he's saying. Is it important? Fuck, it might be. You try to listen, but your heart beats loud, and John's giving a pleading look and now he's leaning in and his eyes are closing and you can't even think so you do the only natural thing and close your eyes and lean in too and now your lips are touching you are in fact kissing your new friend John.

You really are going on a field day with sheltered suburban straight boys.

You can't think any more clearly but you fumble anyways. Your lips move against John's and his are so sloppy, you doubt he's ever kissed anyone before, poor kid. An arm goes around his waist and you feel a hand on the back of your neck and he's really getting into it and he just let a noise out of the back of his throat that was really kinda hot woah. You stroke your hand down his back and use the other one to keep yourself propped up and his hands are both on your face and he's opening his mouth and you're sliding your tongue in his mouth to test the waters and for someone with little to no experience and or talent he's really not half bad. 

The next thing you know you're laying on top of him and his legs are wrapped around your legs and you're pushing his shirt off and kissing his neck and he's starting to moan and he's obviously never done something like this before, hell, he told you that earlier, but he's blushing and cute and he's taking his glasses off and his shirt's going over his head and -

You hear someone clearing their throat in the doorway. 

Bro.

Fuck.


	7. sleep never felt so good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was never the way you expected the weekend to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry for this awful filler! Ugh, bear with me until I can break the curse of writer's block! Thank you so so so much for all the wonderful comments and kudos and bookmarks! <3

This was never the way you expected the weekend to go.

John was sobbing hysterically at the kitchen table, and Bro was freaking. This is completely contrary to everything you have ever known about Bro, so, you're almost in a hysteric mess yourself.

What had happened in the last hour was a sloppy blur. One second, you were getting your mack on with Johnny boy over there, and Bro comes in. He didn't even care, and in fact laughed about the smooching. God, are you glad your brother doesn't give a fuck. He just wanted to know what you two wanted for dinner. 

But, somewhere along the line, John got scared. Uh... Really scared. Too scared. This was, apparently, his first time every doing anything like this at all. And, the topic of homosexuality had never come up with his dad. Would he be disappointed if John was a little gay? Neither you or Bro thought so, but this didn't keep John from running downstairs in a panic.

This brings you to where you are now, sitting in the kitchen, as John had an identity crisis on your kitchen table. Around him was set up an ungodly looking sacrifice circle full of junk food - frozen chicken nuggets, heated up and placed on a plate were cooling to his immediate left, a two liter of Bro's precious orange Crush was sitting in front of him, and to his right was a slice of Papa John's pizza he had ordered about an hour ago for his own dinner. Still, Bro was frantic around the kitchen, trying to do anything to calm John down. 

It took about an hour to get him to the point where he could talk again, at least, rationally, but it was not without sobbing hiccups every couple of words, and wiping the snot from his nose every so often. He explained, in short order, why his identity crisis was coming around, and why he was so upset, and thanked both of them so very much for being there and trying to help, and most importantly, letting him tell his father first.

"No problem, kiddo," Bro said, slapping your friend on the back. He yelped, at which Bro laughed. 

The weekend went smoothly in every aspect, minus the fact you slept for twelve hours the second John left, too tired from staying up for pretty much two days straight having a great time with John and your brother.

As you got dressed for the first day of school, you were unsure of how things were with your best bro John. Where did you stand? But, you decided that that would work itself out in time, and you need'nt worry about it now. Right now, you have to focus on looking fly for all the new bitches you were about to meet.


	8. I'm real and you're real but we don't see each other anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were gonna miss the guy who had turned into your very best friend over the course of your stay here. It... It really sucked.
> 
> Sucked. Sucks. Sucking. Is that the only word you can use to describe things?
> 
> It fits just right to sum up how you feel about it, though.

Fall break came around before you knew it. Normally, you'd be so pumped, so fucking thrilled about it, but... You just couldn't be. You weren't gonna miss your classes, that's for sure. Hell, you were already bombing Chemistry with a flat 65 F-aroonie, and you can't say that you really honestly enjoyed your Spanish teacher's hour long lectures on grammar. Your English grade was fine, and the class was kind of fun you guess, but your study hall (also known to you as "nap time") is by far the best class of the day.

But you weren't gonna miss that. Not at all. You weren't gonna miss throwing spit balls at your new, semi-friends every day. Karkat, who sat ahead of you in Spanish, always got terribly mad at you. It was pretty funny to watch. And Terezi, who sat beside you in English, didn't even really care, but you did it anyways. You weren't gonna miss school lunches, you weren't gonna miss spilling hydrochloric acid on yourself or staring at burning magnesium, and you sure as hell weren't gonna miss math and doing math, and ugh. Math tests.

As you thought about it more, rain pattering against the window as you sat on the moving bus, weaving in and out of suburban neighborhoods, you were gonna miss... You were gonna miss staying after school every Friday, with all the stupid band kids, and going to watch the football team play, and then cheering on your friends during half-time, as they took the field in a storm of band kid fury. You hate to admit it, but they were really good. Really damn good. And, you were gonna miss driving John home from these events, his hair all messed up from his silly hat. You pointed this out many times, and he'd just punch you in the arm and correct you. "It's a shako, Dave! Gosh, and you claim to be smart."

Yeah. That's something to miss.

Marching season was over now, as was football season, so you'd never have any more of that. At the senior night game, you clearly remember the car ride home, as it was punctuated with John, sobbing, because his time here was almost up, because just yesterday he was a rookie, marching his first game. He essentially had an existential crisis about marching band. But, from what you had seen, you couldn't really blame him. They all loved him, loved each other. It was like a family. And he was losing that. It would cut anyone deep.

You weren't gonna miss him crying. That part sucked. 

You were gonna miss the guy who had turned into your very best friend over the course of your stay here. It... It really sucked he was going on vacation for the full two weeks of Fall Break.

Sucked. Sucks. Sucking. Is that the only word you can use to describe things?

It fits just right to sum up how you feel about it, though. 

You put a little more thought into it. What were your feelings for this dweeby little marching band nerd, who cared more about his grades than anything else, blowing you off several times to stay home and study? After your inital make out session, not much was said about... Anything of a more romantic nature. In fact, neither of you said anything. Nothing changed at all, except for maybe Johnny Boy getting his first kiss. Which, was probably good. But everything had gone back to normal. You didn't treat him any differently, nor he to you. 

You kind of wish it had turned out differently. That you weren't scared to talk to him sometimes now, for fear of...

You're not quite sure what you're scared of, to be truthful. 

The bus pulled up to your stop. You didn't want to move, absorbed in your thoughts. But, you couldn't really help it, you supposed. You made your way to the front of the bus, stepping out of it with ease. John followed behind you shortly. As the bus pulled away down the street, he adjusted his backpack straps and smiled at you.

"So..." you start. "Have fun, okay? For me."

John chuckles, his goofy little chuckle, accompanyed by a sincere half-smile. "You know it, Dave. I'm sure I'll have enough fun for the both of us.

"But, uhm... Okay, so I know it's a little late to be asking this, but my dad and I were wondering if, maybe, if you're not doing anything over your break, if you and Bro would wanna come with us?"

You give him a smirk and a questioning glance. "Whaaaat. Come on, dude. Be real. You're not really inviting us last minute to your camping trip, are you?"

"I actually, totally am. This is one hundred percent a legit invite."

"Well... I guess, I'll ask Bro. Pester you about it later."

"Alright, awesome!" Smiling John. Excited John. "We're leaving tomorrow afternoon, so..."

"Are we gonna need our own car, or...?"

"Oh, no! We have room for you both, and food and the like isn't an issue. And our tent is huge! Nah, you guys don't really need anything but clothes and your personal toiletries, ecetera."

"Alright, gotcha. I'll see what we can do, man."

"Alright. Later!" As you turned and walked across the street back to your own house, John smiled and waved at you. Kinda reminded you of the first day you met, and the way he waved at you from his porch.

It was still raining, and you almost forgot this until you stepped on the covered porch and realized how wet you were. To be truthful, it wasn't that bad, but you still had to shake out for a good couple minutes before going inside.

If everything worked out in your favor, this fall break might just be the best ever.


	9. to say i hate daylight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That autumn night, the smell of campfire and dying leaves burnt into your nose, the feeling of John's hand around your burnt into the nerves on your palm, burned into your memory. You didn't think there would be any way you could forget that night. You knew you could wrestle Alzheimer's for it, and come out victorious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost a year since an update. So sorry about that. Hope this is worth the wait. (itwon'tbeimsosorry)

Your back was pressed the cold, wet, forest ground. It was only a little muggy, and even then, it was an enjoyable amount of muggy. The lake nearby lapped against the shore, frogs along the bank crooning to each other, fish occasionally breaking the surface with a splash. The campfire roared not far away, as well, and you could tell that your clothes would smell of fire for weeks. Bro and Mr. Egbert were trading stories and drinking beers, and a cigarette had found its way to your mouth. You were far enough away from the fire that the only thing that lit up the night brighter than your cigarette was the light of the moon and stars. The sky twinkled, a beautiful canopy with holes poked in it, letting through starlight. John laid right beside you, taking in the beauty of the cloudless night himself. 

"Wow." He sighed. "I didn't know the sky could be so beautiful." 

"Sky pollution. Comes with living in the city, or suburb," you stated matter-o-factly. "Have you never gone camping before?" 

"Not since..." And he stopped his sentence there. The silence that engulfed you both was deafening. 

"Not since when?" 

"Since my mom died." 

You apologized. He said no, it was fine. 

"You would have loved her, though." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah. All I really remember about her is that she was beautiful, and loved music. My dad says she was the funniest person, ever. I could believe it." He sighed. 

Although nothing about romance had been even talked about since the last weekend of summer, you felt it appropriate in that moment to reach over and grab John's hand. You didn't intertwine his fingers with yours, but you simply held it, as if it say you weren't going anywhere. 

He chuckled. "Thanks, Dave." 

"No problem. Anything for my best bro." 

You knew he was smiling. Something in the way he squeezed your hand gave it away. 

That autumn night, the smell of campfire and dying leaves burnt into your nose, the feeling of John's hand around your burnt into the nerves on your palm, burned into your memory. You didn't think there would be any way you could forget that night. You knew you could wrestle Alzheimer's for it, and come out victorious. 

The clamor of the adults nearby eventually died out into a dull roar, and eventually they called to you two, saying they were going to bed, good night, you should think about doing the same soon. You and John called back, replying with good nights, see you in the morning, we'll be sure to put out the fire. 

As you continued to lay under the moon with John, your hand still laid in his. Somewhere along the line, your fingers became intertwined. You weren't sure when, but you smiled, and then looked at him, his face lit up and shaded by the white, bright light of an almost full moon. He turned his head to look at you, too, and he smiled, with his dorky buck teeth. 

"Thanks for inviting me and Bro on this trip with you guys, John. Really, it's been great so far." There was sincerity in your voice John had probably never heard quite as clear. 

"It's not big deal, really. It was my dad's idea, actually. It's a big deal to him I have a friend at all. I'm just glad it's someone as cool as you." 

You smiled at him. "It's all in a day's work, buddy." 

He moved closer to you, and pecked your lips, and he didn't even seem that nervous about it, and it felt natural, and right. Everything felt natural and right about this entire night. These are the things worth living for, you decide. These are things worth moving for.


End file.
